


On Ancient Words

by vatnryuu



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: But Belial is making sex jokes, Faa is depressed again, M/M, More like Nordic mythology AU, Mythology References, Norwegian Mythology & Folklore, Sahar talk in riddles, Sort-of, Technically Lucisan, WMTSB, long metaphors, nobody is named, random thoughts about Death and Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vatnryuu/pseuds/vatnryuu
Summary: When the Supreme Primarch died, the skies shakes, and whips in agony. One being especially. But what they didn't saw through their pain, is that this death is only the beginning of the end. One day, its consequences would be known by everyone: the twilight of the gods.After all, myths are tales of rebirth and destruction.Basically me who woke up one day and started writing some WMTSB OS based on Scandinavian mythology.
Relationships: Belial & Beelzebub (Granblue Fantasy), Helel ben Sahar & Lucilius (Granblue Fantasy), Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)
Kudos: 4





	1. Some warnings

Hello!

This page isn’t the first chapter but a warning I judge important to put before posting anything on this website. You can choose to go over it if you want to, but still, I would recommend you to read it anyway.

First and foremost, you should know that English isn’t my mother tongue. Like, not at all. I edited those texts of course, with the help of Grammarly as well as my good friend Thesaurus; but it doesn’t mean there won’t be some grammatical mistakes, misuses of verbal time, or strange turns of phrase. I can’t even guarantee you will understand something actually. I have a very strange love/hate relationship with English; and I choose to not ask some of my friends (who have a better level than mine) to check those texts, as I can’t rely on them for eternity. Not properly speaking English is one of the reasons (aside from general anxiety) why I have trouble posting works, especially on a website like Ao3, where the majority of the writers have a very good English level if they’re not native speakers.

Secondary, those texts are more or less a “gbfication” (yeah I just invent this word) of some Nordic myths, in particular the last verses of the Völuspá, of which the series title is supposed to refer. I must add also the charas are referred to thanks to nicknames, so don’t be surprised about it. However, if I had to summarize this series, it would be something like “how to write on nothingness”. Be aware that only the first chapter, who has been written long before the other texts, follows the details of the legend it’s supposed to adapt. Others take place in a very imprecise timeline, and the legends they’re supposed to refer to are indicated solely by little details. Meaning: as famous as the main events of Scandinavian mythology are known worldwide, I seriously doubt those series to be, at some point, for everyone. Also, reading the first text won’t give you an idea of what the other chapters would look like, as nothing here were supposed to be posted (but we have to begin somewhere I think), and so I experimented…something, I guess. I myself don’t what I did.

Also, the titles are from some of Wardruna’s songs. That’s why they can’t seem strange. And yes I love Nordic folk music.

Well, you can read it anyway, you read the tags and you know what you’re doing.

Now that everything is crystal-clear, let's begin ε=┏( >_<)┛


	2. Helvegen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Helvegen”, or “The Road to Hel” basically tells about the legend of Baldur’s death, and the god Hermod’s travel to Helheim to bring back Baldur to Asgard. Here’s the Lucisan version of it, because I put Lucisan everywhere. The original text was written in 30 minutes at first and on the spur of a moment. It had been a bit edited and reworked after but not that much. So, the “fake sort-of elegant English” is absolutely normal.

There was a time when the Sky sang, as the one true light of Their world was ruling them all. Immortal he was, or at least everyone assumed it. He possessed hair like white starlight, ethereal features, and eyes of blurred blue, pale as the clear and sweet morning. Among all the children of God, he was the brightest, the purest, the kindest.

_O lover dear, you were so gorgeous, and so I was enraptured by you. I was foolish, and I mistrust you; I even doubted my own love._

_O lover dear, let me now raise your pyre, for sadness has now consumed me whole._

_Let my grave be made._

He loved him. He knew it, and he never ceases until his last breath. That was a wistful story, as they never talk clearly about it. Never. But do they need it? Bless by eternity too; the Sparrow wouldn’t want to leave his side. One day he tried, and one day he failed, as the White Light always came to confront him, draped in sorrow and melancholy, asking for his forgiveness.

He was sorry.

_But in reality, he was me who was supposed to be. He had done nothing wrong. Never he did._

_I’m just the wicked pawn._

_A poor, miserable thing._

Fortunately, Sparrow has risen. But not in the way he would have liked to. He dreamt of peace; he just had death. With him, the Bringer of Chaos has arrived. Why? Sparrow will never know. Maybe the Light grasped what his own so-called sin was, but never Sparrow would accept the sole fact that he had one. Wasn’t it supposed to be him, the shameful entity who can’t do anything if not spreading disasters in the World? The whole story wanted to prove him wrong, but never he would acknowledge it. And the White Light loses his head, which came rolling on his feet like a forsaken rock.

He couldn't do anything.

At least not here.

_From where come that song which I hear wandering among the mountains?_

_From where come that lay which brings the Dead’s sighs?_

This night the Sky was bereaved. The Four Spirits cried and erected a bonfire on a wooden grey boat, in the middle of a lake. And while the fog was rising from the blackened waters, barely trying to consume the boat’s hull, they set it ablaze. The beheaded corpse disappeared into a mush of smoke, and Sparrow felt his soul being ripped off his body just to sink at the lake’s bottom, as one last breath fled from his parched throat.

“- What will we do, if he isn’t there anymore?” ask the Four Spirit, lost without their guide.

“- One of us must go get him back, said the Fire Spirit, the bolder of them all. She solicits everyone’s help, but Sparrow already delivered his decision.

“- I will ride to Hel, as Death indubitably know where my love’s soul lay. And then I will bring him back to life.”

From that point, he rode for nine days and nine nights, crossing deserted valleys and climbing high dark peaks; and his travel was so long and so exhausting he often thought he was dreaming, trapped within a poisonous nightmare. The farthest he goes, the less the green grass becomes. Trees and flowers froze, and soon, a dead winter reign.

_I feel cold, so cold. Outside and Inside._

There was nothing, and he begins asking himself if he didn’t follow the wrong path; but suddenly he saw the bridge, guarding a portal and passing across a long river; whose dark blue waters threatened to swallow both him and his pain. The song was still over here, distant laments echoing above the shores. But on the bridge was standing God’s voice, and if he assumed the same appearance as White Light, they were far unlike from one other. Wrapped up in snowy silk, he saw Sparrow and solely spoke.

“- Who are you and what are you doing here? Here’s God’s realm, and mortals aren’t allowed to pass this gate.

\- I am no mortal, but the Bringer of Light’s creation, and I went to take him back from Hel. Allow me to cross Helveg, Clear Voice of the One, for I wish to speak with Death.

\- And what makes you think, dull creation, that They will listen to you? Death is God and God is Death, and Their power is far above yours. You can’t request them to release what’s already Theirs.

\- You can’t decide for him, and won't be able to know what he would say to me. Let me pass I said, the Sky asks for it as well.”

Clear Voice doesn’t ask for more, but deep down he knows that the task was doomed to fail. Suddenly the gate was unlocked, squeaking like the mighty sound of war horns’ choir.

_O Black Crow, I know who you stand your eye on._

_Blind hope and long-shed tears._

Far off the palace of Death was standing, stone stained in the same grey as the funeral boat, akin as a frightening ghost who died of sickness for centuries. Into the room, no throne, but a stage. And on the stage, a big and red-scaled dragon; motionless like a statue on his pedestal. Next to him, White Light was sitting, pale and lifeless, sad and beautiful.

_Did you hear my soul calling?_

“I had”, he wanted to answer, but God speaks first.

“- You, who stand before me, speak, and reveal your presence’s reasons.

\- I, who stand before you, come to return the Bringer of Light to the Sky. The Fire Spirit required some of us to confront you, but I took this decision before she even mentioned it.

\- So, tell me, why should I do that? Do you think you just have to order, and I would comply?

\- I’m not asking for God’s submission; I’m asking for his pity. The Sky is grieving, and nobody there knows what will happens if the Bringer of Light doesn’t return. I vow I will deliver him from his chains. I vow he will return to us, to me.

_O lover dear, why are you looking at me with those empty eyes?_

_Soon you will know if I fall._

\- I won’t leave without him.

\- Cattle die, Friends die, soon you will die too.

\- He doesn't belong to Hel. I will release him.”

God sigh.

“- If you insist, arrogant Sparrow, then I shall oblige. I will let him go; but only if you prove to me that the Sky’s sorrow is as great as you pretend it is. I want every being, every beast, every plant and trees, every grass’ blade, every cloud in firmament and sand on the ground to cry for him. I want to hear the Heavens' screams and then I will allow him to return.”

Sparrow didn’t gain what he desired. But still, he couldn’t ask for more and came back to the Sky’s realm; and told the Fire Spirit about the matter.

Fire Spirit didn’t waste time. She dispatches her soldiers in every sky’s nook, ordering every distinct being to cry for White Light; and as all of them cherished him very much, none refused. None of them, except the Snake.

A black, red-eyed snake, with sharping teethes and cunning eyes, who saw the Fire Spirit’s minions coming from afar.

“- I will not cry, he said, not for him. Why would I perform such a thing?

\- Then you will deny the Sky his guide? How selfish can you be, Snake? Cried Fire Spirit, repulsed by so much villainy.

\- You should have asked the Bringer, Maiden of the Sudden Flame, about how did he use to consider his closest friends.

\- I know of whom you’re talking about, and betrayers shall be punished.

\- Not for my sake.”

She tried to catch him but he was too fast, and fled under the ground, hiding at the depths of the world.

And so, Death kept White Light in Their arms.

Or is it where the legend ends? No one knows because Sparrow vows a second time. And this one, he will hold on to it.

_O thee who denied me happiness shall burn into the merciless fire of judgment. I will find the Snake and to the light, bind him. I will strangle him with my bare hands, so he would appreciate how it is to feel your last breath leaving you._

There’s one thing that God states it will never be forgotten, and that’s one’s being renown.

Whatever it is admirable or terrible.

_Then I will follow the murderer and will hang that pathetic fly with his own shame and envy. His blood shall stain the Heavens, and maybe at this moment, I will be satisfied._

There’s one thing that God states it will never be forgotten, and that’s the judgment of a dead being’s life.

_Good ones will be recalled as examples. Evil ones will be spoiled and defiled._

_Or not._

_I miss you._

One day, Sparrow will ride to Hel again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda hope he will. Poor Sandy U.U


	3. Hugsjá

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a bit difficult to translate the Norwegian term “Hugsjá”, and that’s the reason why I mainly base the text most on the text and the ambiance of the song than on the title in itself. It would mean something like “inner-thought” or “inner-vision”; like something you can feel but cannot describe. Aside from that: Belial and Bubsy are stuck on a longship to purge their punishment, and they talk about…things.

The sea was peaceful. Dangerously, abnormally peaceful. Like if She died not long ago. There were no fishes, no waves, no shakes carried by the tide. Grey and flat as the hard slates extracted from an ancient mountain; standing, motionless and lifeless, like a huge puddle of oil thrown on the crowd by a giant; burying his liquid body into the earth's carved heart and swallowing it whole. At the deepest of his stomach dwelled a black ink stain, as if a nameless void gripped her at her turn.

_Breath in._

She said, with her keen and sighing voice, carried by a sweet gust. Lonely.

_Breath out._

Fog slips from an invisible mouth, raising high above the long-ship, covering the view ahead. As if the horizon was a lie. As if they were stuck into a bubble of blurred glass, without sky neither sea, the world merging in silent cries.

_She's a lie who’s trying to order me how to live._

The boat stagnates inert over the water, his gracious wooden curve gloomily rasping.

_Breath._

Everyone was gasping, everything besides him. It was like the smoke around wanted to make him suffocate, trying to slowly kill him with his cursed ambitions. His cursed destiny, the one he desires so strongly and so madly.

_King._

If he had the opportunity to decide, Chaos would have stay stuck on the vast ocean alone. Standing for himself, only with his conflicted thoughts as an ambient song, and his fuzzy reflection printed on fathomless water; a rusted golden smudge floating within a bath of silver light. Long hair was sneaking between his sealed lips, elegantly carried by the wind. He clicked his tongue, mildly annoyed. A voice came from afar. But this time, it wasn’t the Sea.

“- Aren’t you bored?”

As expected. Snake wouldn’t have dared to leave him on his own. Snake followed him, not by submission or friendship; for interest, maybe. Snake remains a playful creature, which likes to toy with his food. No one really knows how much he loves witnessing them struggling with their inner thinking, surely sinking into the worst pit of madness, until they rip their pathetic carcasses out of despair. Maybe, somewhere deep inside him, Chaos understand that. In one way he and the Snake were similar. He, himself, recalls the joy to watch one other crying, begging, not for his life nor his soul; but for the _world greater good_.

_Such disgusting dedication._

He knows his enemies aren’t far away. As long as Snake is with him, they wouldn’t let him escape. Sparrow in particular who, however, represents the last being on universe Chaos fears. He could have stayed and defied him tho. But the lust of blood was more addictive when consequences were distant.

“- I'm not.

\- Lost in thought again, hum?

\- Mind your own business.”

Snake laughs, his chuckle echoing over the stream.

“- But I'm worrying for you!

\- Liar.

\- Oh please! You’re breaking my heart!

\- As if you possessed one, beast.”

Even without contemplating him, Chaos would see the grin drawn on Snake’s face.

“- This one was mean.

\- I don’t care about your damn feelings. I would have already thrown you aboard if I was sure the flow would have taken you far away from me.

\- Aw, I’m sorry about that. Unluckily, I don’t have the power to grant you escape from your divine punishment.

\- Maybe I can drown you into the sea, though. If I force my right feet hard enough on the top of your head, eventually you wouldn’t come back.

\- Bodies naturally float back to the surface you know?

\- At least your corpse won’t talk.

\- But it would ruin the landscape. I honestly prefer myself alive.

Snake rise, arms spread over the blur, desert view.

“- I mean, look at this. You’re alone in the middle of nothing. No sounds, no one passing by, the whole, complete _loneliness_. You say you're capable to handle it, but are you sure about this?”

_You need someone to look at you in awe._

The following sentence, unspoken but nearly whispered, drift freely over their heads.

“- So be reassured. You could have ended tied up to a rock.

\- But apparently, I won’t escape your poison.

\- Can't have everything.”

Snake swiftly shakes his shoulders. He denotes within this bright, smoking scene. Pale as a dead, black as a bird of ill omen, only his eyes were shimmering, those eyes of the same hot deep red as bloodied wine, glistening within a monochromatic figure. If the benevolent White Light of Skies had a peaceful, ethereal grace, Snake would have a vicious, sinful beauty, and his mind was as perverted as his appearance. If only the Gods apprehended what his demented creator thought of while bringing him to life. He wasn’t mended to be stranded here actually, but he's having too much fun. Chaos remains the reason. At each word he would utter, Chaos would turn around, prematurely losing his temper and choking in his fury. And he will laugh once more, as the unique thrill of fight will excite him. The poor little fly misuses his name.

_I am the unique prelate of true turmoil here._

He receives no comments and said nothing. The wind arises, wrinkling the Sea's liquid skin. He looks afar, and it seems that a distant light has appeared among the veils of vaporous clouds. Frail purple light piercing the radiant void, and then disappears again, as it belongs to some abandoned lighthouse standing over an imaginary shore. It breathes too, like the tide, the wind; like both of them. Like if they were fit to hear the first sighs of new-born darkness. As an answer, the blackened Sea adopts a dusky shade of blue. Snake bend over the boat's rail, diving one hand into the water, but withdrew it promptly. Sea's blood was frozen as winter dawn, penetrating his skin like ice spears, and leaving nothing but a humid, half-frosted sensation, and the caresses of melting snow’s non-existent smell. Assuredly Chaos heard him moving, but, once again, he stayed silent.

“- Do you think we will escape this place one day?”

Chaos blinks.

\- If I was able to escape it on my own, I would have already done it, and surely you know it.

\- Obliged to rely on Lady Luck, hum?

\- It has been a long time since I stop waiting for this bitch to give me anything. But right now, I have no other choice. But I know.

_Breath in._

\- I know one day I will fly from this bleak prison. I know their end is near. Soon the sun will darken, the sky will crack, the earth will open, and be swallowed by a raging ocean. The dead will walk again, heavens will tremble, stars will shake; and the grand tree of life will be crushed, bringing in his doom all Creation child. And then I will rise, alone and free.

_King._

\- What a great plan. Will you grant me the honour of leaving me alive?

\- I’ll have probably torn your flesh before anything happens.

\- Oh? Why not let me _pierce_ your _flesh_ instead?

\- Do you want me to wrench your tongue too?

\- Please don’t, that would be a loss for you.

\- Shut the fuck up.”

Snake laugh once again. After a moment he pauses.

“- But I'm glad you can hear them too.”

_The trumpets of war._

“- I'm glad you can smell it too.”

_Frightened innocents’ fear of calamity._

“- I'm glad you can see it too.”

_The purple light._

“- For who did you took me for.

\- Anyway, how will we manage to get out? By walking on water?

It was Chaos' turn to laugh. A scornful, dismal laugh.

\- We're moving. We can’t perceive it with our eyes, but we're moving. The Sea’s like a table, and as the ocean spreads it gets closer to the edge. And when we will finally reach it, we will be able to grasp Horizon’s end.

_Tide is time's daughter. It moves, inevitably, to her fall, for nothing can stop her._

\- How can you know this?

\- I don’t know it, your idiot. I feel it.

\- …Isn’t an odd thing, to sense what would be our future. To have the ability to paint it with vague impulses only. And it’s even funnier coming from you, considering who you beheaded. Didn’t your great inner-vision warn you about your exile? Do you curse him now, for letting himself killed by your hands?

\- I cursed his existence long ago, the same way I cursed yours.”

_Breath out._

Snake get back to the water. The boat’s long and dark silhouette was still pretty clear over the mirror-like surface, but the nameless pit below let escape from its limbs a face which wasn’t his. He dives his hand a second time, but the stealthy apparition trembles and dissipates, as quickly as it came. He heard Chaos walking on the deck and stop by his side, looking at the pit over Snake's shoulders.

“- Do you curse _him_? Snake whispers, heat coming as a thin haze escaping his month. He didn’t actually want Chaos to answer, or at least with his usual hint of ill-hidden jealousy. But Chaos’ deep voice's tone seems strangely melancholic.

\- I choose my path by myself. He has nothing to do with it. And if he comes back and gets in my way, I will kill him. Like the others.

_Like the whole world._

\- Isn’t he the real reason behind all your mess? The reason why you accepted to help me brings him back to life? To witness you when you will have reached the top of heavens?

\- And what are _your_ reasons? Join his side and betray me when he breathes again?

\- It's not that easy. I'm a wild card; I do what I want, under the protection of the game's most powerful pawn. If he became the strongest of all, I would join him. But if it happens to be you, I will stay by your side. Wouldn’t you be delighted, me being your lapping dog instead of his, worshipping you till the end of time?

\- I don’t need unfaithful believers.

\- Am I not still here with you?

\- Because you're as stuck as me right now.

\- However, I didn’t try to flee.

For a second, doubt appears in Chaos' eyes. But before his firm resolves shattered in pieces, scarlet irises were back to their steel-like gaze. Above the brown's stain reflected by the long-ship, his gilt figure shakes, frail and boneless, reflector of his inner turmoil. Beside it, Snake's stocky shadow was just as impenetrable as a clouded cold night.

“- I know what it cost to one’s fate to trust you.

\- Well, you will learn to. As you declared it yourself, it’s not like you had another choice.

\- At the opposite. I hope my mind will always stay out of your influence. If it’s the unique part of me that can be free now, so be it.

\- That's poetic, for sure. Your iron-shaped mind is a blind eye which can only feel his fate, riding the careless wind forward, above the limits of the cosmos. Yes, that's definitely lovely. But blind eye doesn’t know what he feels out of his being. What it smells can be full of good intentions, or it can be deceiving.

_Blind eyes solely know the inside of its mind._

_Mine’s a bottomless abyss._

_Consuming everything._

\- Stop mocking me. I have no consideration for your metaphysical thoughts. I know what I am. I know who I am.

_Sure?_

_That’s why you can’t be free. Not even in your head, as you're so obsessed with your fake glory and so blinded by your ravenous envy._

_My dumb, naïve king._

Under the grey mess of sky, the spider-like rigs have stopped squeaking. The dull silence has been replaced by a distant litany, softly ringing within the water. A long, high note, grinding like the rusted sound of an old instrument, suddenly emerging from the past. The fog hasn’t stopped rising, engulfing the long-ship, reaching deeper on the deck like frothy dust, rushing between the black fur sewn inside of Chaos' coat.

He leaves Snake at his cryptic contemplations and went back to the boat's prow. Filmy raindrops started falling, leaving murky stains on the wood. Deep royal blue was still bleeding from the Sea's veins, mixing up with grey and meeting orchid light.

Like a dim torch into the white night.

He would never allow the Snake to parasite his judgment. He would never allow him to devour his narcissistic faith.

_…I hope._

_Or am I so weak?_

_He's mocking me, this bastard._

The wind was still sighing, running till the nearest shore. To the fair, dusky light. It disrupts the smoke, which was sent away, beneath woven clouds moving in pack. Maybe it would reach an unknown harbour one day, bringing smooth chilliness and relief to its inhabitants, mistreated by a scorching heat. And then it would laugh with joy, the mighty northern waft.

_But I am not the wind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bubs, you’re such a drama queen.


	4. Laukr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Laukr”/ “Lögr” or “Laguz” is the 21st rune of the elder Proto-Germanic futhark. It means at the same time “water”, “lake”, or “ocean”; and it's theoretically attached to fertility and creation, but also stubbornness and blindness. So, I took advantage of this to sew a very long and incomprehension metaphor, with Faa and Sahar as main guests. This text always seems a bit snobbish to me, but as it prefigures Ragnarök, not posting it wouldn’t have made much sense.

« - Have you heard of the King, he, who lives far above the Heavens, Lord of cosmic lands? Have you heard of his rival, he, who lives far above the Stars, Lord of the eternal void? It’s how they use to begin their preaching. They won’t stop saying this. At every time, every moment of the day they would plow our brains with those same, stupid words until you know them by heart; and become as obsessed as them with this so-called God. I hated it. I still hate it. And with it the fact that I, myself, kept in mind this speech without wanting to.

\- Don't you think, his interlocutor whispers, there's a reason why every being unto the sky sang about Them? Don’t you think They're unable to protect the livings?

\- I don’t care if They do. I don’t care if They fail or succeed. I don’t want to hear about Them. I don’t care if They indeed exist, or if They’re only disgusting lies. I don’t care. About anything.

\- And so, you decided to remain deaf to Their call.

\- What are you, a missionary?

\- I just can see farthest than ordinary beings.

\- What are you implying?

\- Nothing more than what I said.

\- Then tell me, why did you come here to confront me? Didn’t you have better to do? I don’t think your dear God would have liked to know you're coming to see a mere sinner.

\- Do you consider yourself as one?

\- _You_ consider me as one.

\- I perceive you as someone who is lost and endlessly searches for his place in this world. But whatever my advice could be, you won’t listen to me, right?

\- What do you think I should answer?

\- And if I tell you I can witness what awaits us? Will you still refuse to heed my words?”

Black Wings stayed silent for a moment. The man in front of him doesn’t seem to lie. But does he really want to listen to this brainwashed fool?

_For how long am I stuck here?_

_For how long am I obliged to listen without hearing?_

“- ...Speak then. What do you have to say, which may deserve my undivided attention?

\- Tell me, how the world looks like from your point of view?

He didn’t expect his question to be countered by another inquiry.

\- A locked, imaginary garden, fenced by a huge door, which nobody can open. The one on the other side of the gate would prefer us to not come to Them. They would like us to keep believing the sky is blue when it’s nothing but a deep void, to keep believing that the bright fields’ flowers are roses when they are in reality a bunch of poisonous weeds.

\- This view seems terribly sad. Fortunately, our creator has made the universe as a boat. A long, slender boat, with a shell made of the same shadowy substance that shapes the brilliant night, oars of thin obsidian reflecting blankness, and elegant sails wove in silver stardust. Of this ship, They’re the captain, and Their creatures are Their Mariners. But then, you provoked mutiny. Their calm, gentle travel over the road of eternity became a fight to maintain the grand order. It became a run against the calamity you brought.

\- ...In that case, it's a shame if I didn’t make Their boat capsize.

\- I think you nearly did.

\- What a performance. As close as the result can be from perfection, still, the failure is present. I can’t ignore this.

\- Do you think you were cursed?

\- That’s a pertinent question. I come to ask it to myself sometimes.”

He sighs, his breath losing itself in the abyssal void.

\- “The Primarch and his allies defeated me. They throw me into this parody of space to punish me. How naïve they may be, to think they will impede me with only this. I will be here and will try to accomplish my desire as long as I have a brain. My mind is not theirs. It’s mine and mine alone.

\- Maybe the unique thing you got right now.

\- What did you just say?

\- Do you think I can’t feel your sorrow?

\- What are you talking about? Do you think of me as someone so vulnerable?

\- Suffering doesn’t make you weak. But rejecting it would.

\- What words filled with wisdom! Hadn’t you learned your speech well before you came to me? Do you give those same moralizing sayings to the people you ever met here? What does their face look like when you force them into their throat like geese we stuff? Do they weep out of gratitude?

\- Don’t say words you will regret after. I’m not trying to humiliate you. I just require you to stop disregarding your inner turmoil.

\- I didn’t plead for your help.

\- I just feel sorry for you. You’re the only one being naïve here, thinking that killing God would eliminate your pain. It won’t be enough. It would never be enough. A gruesome murder can’t make the black pit of your soul disappear. The World’s shipwreck would be swallowed by shadows, vanishing in ignorance; and this dark pond standing in the middle of your fake paradise would reform again as if nothing happened.

\- If the universe is a boat as you said, so I will assemble a new one. A one without any despot. A one who will sail, leading to the new vacuity I would have achieved.”

_Despot’s existence is only acceptable when it’s mine._

\- “I can see nothing but water under the shell.

\- Water?

He smiles, with a melancholic, eerie expression.

\- Just long-shared tears falling, becoming a ghostly puddle. The puddle will become a lake. The lake will become rivers. Rivers will fall from the top of unseen waterfalls. And it would come to meet the Sea where the most terrible cheaters dwell, stuck under grey light until the end of Times.

Black Wings doesn’t answer.

\- It’s deep…So deep. If only I can drown myself in it. If only I can properly understand you and what you lived.

\- Tell me.

\- Telling you what?

\- Tell me if I’m still asleep.”

Far away, imaginary waves were crashing against the rocks, cradling his misty mind into a soft lullaby. The melodious song of the Dragon’s voice gained his ears, with the numerous ones of other living beings, trying to manipulate his mind saturated with growing craziness. It seems strangely elegant, haunting even, compared to the sound of his harsh, brittle voice.

\- “In some way you already are.

\- He killed me.

\- He killed you.

\- And how did I come here?

\- Your soul was carried by the flood.

\- I feel so powerless here. I want to come back. If only this worthless creation can do something about it.”

He shifted his gaze from the man to the dark blue nothingness, staking with deep, elegant raspberry stains, and pale, tiny stars, probably dead for a long time. He was able to distinguish the sharp shape of what looked like a giant tree far away, majestic but threatening. Some snowy silhouettes take shape on the plant’s rugged roots, descending the slopes to the dusty sea of fog that was silently and slowly moving at its feet. They seem humanoids, but far as he was standing, he was unable to guess what they really were. His interlocutor stays silent, before carrying on speaking.

\- “The tide is moving, backward, and forward. It was born in a particular way, then destroy itself to rebirth anew. The sun comes after the Moon and the Moon comes after the Sun, Winter follows Summer and Summer follows Winter; every existing thing chasing themselves in an eternal dance, Death and Life untangles and loyal to each other. An endless circle, with already written possibilities.

You were sentenced to fail, as much as you are doomed to succeed. One day you will fall, the other you will rise; and then fall again, and rise again, and again, and again.

\- Is that what you were talking about earlier? That’s what you see.

\- I’m no soothsayer. But it’s far easier to guess the future when everything remains at it ever was.

\- And the World…

\- It moves forever on, running to his destruction. With or without you, it will. That’s its destiny.

\- Shut up!

He screams suddenly.

\- I tried, he said with a trembling voice full of cold anger, to kill God to be free. I won’t achieve that to end being subjected to some dumb fate!

\- You can’t choose, unfortunately…

\- I can!

The man jumped, hearing this sudden scream. It covered for a second the loud chorus that has raised at their feet, a chaotic mix of meaningless voices uttering incomprehensible words.

\- I can. I will defy it and bring an end to it. I’m stronger than this.

\- Would you spoil the infinite run of life?

\- I will. And you can still try to stop me.

Regrets were now visible in those clear eyes.

\- You know…I’m useless too. I’m nothing but a mere walking voice. At least I would have like you to not stupidly sacrifice yourself. But you’re so obstinate…

I already fathom what kind of weapon you would use. You will finally break your chains, and take by force the fresh waves of the boundless sea, and drown the earth under its strength. As your heart will harden, the tender lake of your tears will freeze, giving birth to iced giants with no feelings nor pity. As an answer black fire will come from the south and consume the world. You will win, I said, but within this win, you will draw your last breath.

_Death and Life untied._

\- You were seeking to unveil which was hidden. The thing which was imploring you to be uncovered remains the sole cruel reality.

_Stop talking._

\- I can already taste the raw feel of pain gripping me before I even see the humble, deep pit that will be your tomb.

_I’m free._

\- Free to die.”

The anthem grows. Words became rasping cries, blaming him for his selfishness. He didn’t want to overhear them. Other’s fate wasn’t his preoccupation, and he had neither the time nor the envy to listen to their ghosts’ venomous reproaches.

Only count the bloodstained vacuum created by agony.

How to efface it.

\- “Tell me.

\- Yes.

\- How to get rid of this nightmare.”

_How to get rid of myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I can’t write Faa-san without making him depressed?


	5. Gravbakkjen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Gravbakkjen”, in English “The Burial Hill”, is basically a funeral song. As a new world would be reborn after the end of the world, some dead protagonists would reappear again. Or at least I hope, but not now please, my spark fund isn’t ready.

_What may people do think when they see one of them dying in front of them?_

_Not when they hear about it afterward. When they directly witness it. They grieve, of course. They cry. It’s one of the harshest feelings of existence, one of the cruelest things they can experiment with._

_And what the dead may think?_

_They don’t think, we say, they’re gone._

_Lies._

_I remember the time when they hold my body to my last abode. What I don’t recollect tho, it’s the way I died. Only some flashes come across my sleepy mind: arcade’s pure white, sword’s shimmering steel, gold strands above a sphere of pale glints. A piercing pain on my throat, and then nothing. I am no longer fit to breathe, to move, to talk. But was it that suspect at this moment? I didn’t feel like it was. I wasn’t able to think anymore. And when you can’t think, everything looks quite trivial. No anger, nor hate._

_As if I already felt the need of scorning anyone._

_They are all so lost…As much as I am._

_Later, you remember. About what you lived, about the people that might have loved you; or at least you hope they had. Feelings come back rushing, and you feel sorry. So sorry. You try apologizing, but they can’t hear you. You try touching them, but they can’t feel you. And when they do, they always suddenly shudder, as if you were made of a sharp frost breeze. “Why are my hands so cold right now? I am no wintertime.”_

_They conducted your inanimate body to the water, then set it ablaze. You see it burning, but you sense nothing._

_Dying is like attending a play as you possess no power on, but you already know the actors very well._

_They don’t bow to you at the end._

_The end._

_Long since I wonder what kind of weeping tunes would follow the edge of times. I often thought I wouldn’t be here to help, but at the same time I foolishly hoped to still draw breath, so I would prove myself I’m not that worthless. Even if I fail, I would have tried. However, I can’t. The play is becoming too horrifying for me to watch it without crying, and I mustn’t reach the stage._

_Yet._

_I’m searching for my loved one into this maelstrom, but the chaos’ too sheer. Every being is dying, even God’s enemies. At the fall of the day, they’re all lifeless under what’s left of the Great Tree’s roots._

_“O blazing light, as you come here to hear about this World’s fate, may I suggest a well-written path for those who will confront you? By beaming dusk the first will fall, disloyal to the mere concept of pain. By broad night the second will fall, disloyal to the mere concept of death. By shy dawn the third will fall, disloyal to the mere concept of truth. The Sun will rise again, offering a term to the tower of tangible madness they erected. You can think you didn’t allow them to choose, but I assure you, my child, sorrow made them selfish. Thence please, don’t cry for those who wouldn’t mourn for you. The unique thing you will have to take care of at this time remains the song on the grassy knoll. It’s a bird, isn’t it?”_

_Promptly they will meet their rest under the highlands. Like me before, but their mother would be the earth; whereas mine was the profound lake, leading to the underworld’s gate, swirling around God’s house like a giant snake._

_I recall the almighty dragon’s face very well, but once again I must apologize, for I shall leave again._

_To the black lake where my ashes dwell._

_I will be the only one to hear the dull endlessness’ lay of woe. The sole being listening to the cosmos’ laments. The only one bearing the invisible wounds of missed words and withered hopes._

_“You will pray for something to haul you back to your grave, next to the unfortunate souls’ who waged this meaningless battle.”_

_I would like their corpses to stop crying._

_One in particular._

_However, Fate is a lie._

_When I wake up at least, I had issues seeing around me. There’re no shines coming from the sky and scratching the lake’s surface muddy grey. All seems hollow but why? It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Then my face emerges from the water, and all that my eyes can notice is darkness around, with fresh rain dripping from the clouds._

_Where is my blue sky?_

_But strangely, I feel like I’m not alone. “Dead shall walk upon the ground again”, They said. But who will be there to recognize them, if nobody is alive anymore? There’s one thing that God states it will never be forgotten, and that’s one’s being renown, whatever it is admirable or terrible. There’s one thing that God states it will never be forgotten, and that’s the judgment of a dead being’s life._

_Was it also calumnies?_

_“Someone is waiting for you on the burial hill.”_

_I slowly drag my sore body out of the lake. I try getting up once I reach the shore, but only succeed the fourth time. There’s a shadow on the glowing mount; standing above a milky sprout of ash, surrounded by grass shining like worn gold. His body is coated with black embers and spectral dew; the kind of which we can only find at the Death’s realm._

_I remember._

_I cannot forget who he is, as much as he cannot forget who I am. I swiftly understand I constantly lived, in melancholic thoughts, within his sad voice’s tone, in stories they all use to tell. Fate’s a lie; some survived for the sake of an ancient omen._

_World’s goes on, with my love as its heartbeat._

_I yet live._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andddd that’s all folks! If you made it until now, congrats! It means you have been patient, I guess. Thanks for having read this monster anyway, you can post comments if you want but I can’t guarantee anxiety will allow me to answer, even if I will try to, don’t worry. See you someday!


End file.
